


The Lee Shore

by Elywyngirlie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas gift, Fluffy, Hannibal Secret Santa 2018, M/M, hannibal secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 04:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elywyngirlie/pseuds/Elywyngirlie
Summary: Will is stuck at home during one of the worst storms of the century.And then, an unexpected surprise and an unexpected visitor bearing gifts.





	The Lee Shore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dorkysetters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkysetters/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for dorkysetters. My prompt was: " Fluff! Something soft and gay™ "
> 
> Unfortunately, can't have Hannigram fluff without a teeny bit angst. But I hope you enjoy it and happy holidays!

The media had called it one of the fiercest snow storms in a century to hit the Mid-Atlantic. Window panes rattled with the gusts of wind, ice cold air wiggling between cracks in the wood, and under windows to whistle through the house. Snow fell in furious waves or came down in large, gentle flakes. 

It was during one of the quiet periods, when the land around his house was whisper quiet, naked branches now blanketed in white, that Will went outside to shovel snow off the roof and to clear a path way to the wood pile. As he hurried toward the house, logs tightly gripped, he heard it. A clear pining howl. Then the whimper. 

Buster’s ears pricked forward and he leapt in the snow, making dogged work even as it came up to his chest. Winston wasn’t far behind. The whine pierced the air again and Will shook his head. This time, there was something out there. He dropped the logs on the porch and gamely made his way after his dogs. He ordered Buster toward the house but the little dog merely returned to the mostly shoveled driveway, paws dancing on the packed snow. Winston stuck to Will’s side as they trudged through the knee high snow to reach the sound. 

Another whine. Will felt his chest tighten and he leaned forward, willing himself somehow to get through it faster. Winston darted forward, bounding through the snow, until he began to bark. Will caught up to him at the tree line and he inhaled sharply at the sight. 

A mother with her litter of puppies lay in the lee of tree. She was a mutt, like Winston, with a beautiful golden coat. Probably a cocker spaniel poodle mix, Will thought as he kneeled before her. Winston pranced near the mother, nosing at her, licking her face. 

“These yours, buddy?” Will asked gamely even though he knew that wasn’t possible. The mother was almost skeletal looking with matted fur and broken toe nails. The upraised roots of the tree had formed a hollow where she had cached herself and had given birth on her own. 

“You’re a strong, sweet girl aren’t you?” he murmured. He always carried dog treats in his coat and pulled out a few. The mother took a few cautious sniffs, whites of her eyes showing. She bared her teeth, a low growl eeking out, as Winston tried to smell the babes. Will could see they were breathing, tucked against their mother, a bed of dead leaves cushioning them. 

Will made low soothing noises until the mother took the treats. She gobbled them gratefully and Will continued to feed her until she let him pet her, his hands smoothing along her back, carefully checking for any injuries. She appeared fine. She snapped as his hand neared the puppies. 

“What we need is a big blanket,” Will said, half to Winston. Winston curled himself on the other side of the puppies, a warm shield. Mind made up, Will hurried to the house where he found old quilts in the barn. He grabbed more food and dumped some blankets in the bathroom. It would be a safe place he thought, reminding himself to pull out a baby gate. Otherwise Ellie and Buster would never leave the puppies alone. 

As he prepared to rush back, Will heard a low crunching sound. A Bentley on wide snow tires was trundling up his driveway. He raised his brows in surprise. 

“Hannibal,” he greeted, astonishment clear in his voice, as the older man exited the car. Hannibal was bundled against the cold with the odd fur flapped hat again. 

“Will. I’ve come to check on you. This storm has been quite deadly,” Hannibal replied. Will’s brow furrowed and he wondered if he needed to check his phone. Spying his confusion, Hannibal pulled out a large basket. 

“From the cold,” he said. “Loss of power.”

“What are you doing here?” 

“As I’ve said, I’ve come to check on you. You are so isolated. And to bring replenishments, of course,” he replied gamely, gesturing toward the basket. Surprise was a warm welcome, rushing through Will’s veins, and he couldn’t quite stop the small smile from forming on his face. 

“You make house calls on all your patients?” 

“No, only my friends,” Hannibal replied. He looked down at Will’s blankets in his hands. “Are you not sufficiently warm? If so, you may come to my home. I am well prepared for all eventualities.”

Will let out a huff of laughter, nodding. “I can imagine.” Hannibal did not reply, merely waiting, as the snow began to fall at a heavier pace again. Large flakes stuck to Hannibal’s hat and jacket but the older man didn’t seem aware. Even during a terrible winter storm, he looked well assembled, his eyes tracing Will’s face in an open examination. 

A series of short barks pierced the air and Will shook his head. 

“We found a mother and her litter of puppies,” he explained, striding toward the woods. “I will be back shortly.”

“Nonsense, I will join you,” Hannibal said, placing the basket on the porch and stepping after him. “Two sets of hands are better than one.” 

Will chuckled again but he could see the sense in it. Together, they might more easily scoop up the mother and her puppies to get them warm. Will told him his plan as they returned to the tree line. Winston looked up, tail thumping, and Will could see the half trust forming in the other dog’s eyes.   
He offered more food and she ate it eagerly. He pulled out a small bottle of water to pour out and she lapped at it eagerly. 

“She has either been abused or has been in the wild some time,” Hannibal observed. 

“We’ll find out once I can bathe her. I’ll also take her in to see if she’s chipped.” 

Hannibal gave a curt nod. “Do you believe she is ready?”

“As she’ll ever be,” Will agreed, spreading out the blanket. A quick command sent Winston scurrying away. Hannibal took one end and with astonishing speed, rolled her and the puppies into the blanket. The mother began to snarl, but her concern was for her babies. 

“It will be easier if we each take one end,” Hannibal instructed. He grabbed Will’s forearms and together they made an almost stretcher for them, blanket wrapped securely around the dogs. 

“Well this won’t be awkward,” Will grumbled and Hannibal offered up one of his small smiles. A tiny victory, Will thought. 

“We will just have to move in synchronicity,” Hannibal said, his lips twitching. Will snorted but they moved almost in time, facing each other. The dog squirmed inside the blanket and Hannibal pulled Will closer, arms linking around the back. 

“Let’s cradle them between us. Our warmth and presence will soothe them until we get them inside,” Hannibal murmured, his smoky voice a warm brush against Will’s cold burning cheeks. Snow stuck to Will’s eyelashes and Hannibal blew across his face. His breath was minty, a cool caress, that sent Will reeling, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“Uh, thanks,” he stuttered. He couldn’t stop the warm flush creeping up his neck so he looked down, watching the bundle, all too aware of the heat from Hannibal’s body nearly flush against his. The trek across the field seemed to take forever, his feet shuffling in the snow, Hannibal’s tread steady, the dogs curled between them. At last they reached the porch and Hannibal’s brow twitched up. 

“I’m afraid I’ll need to completely relinquish these,” he said, his low and throaty. Will coughed once and nodded. Hannibal stepped closer, Will’s arms angling up, until Hannibal nearly loomed above him, their faces close enough that they were breathing each other’s air. Will wondered if he smelled like sweat and dog hair and expected Hannibal to wrinkle his nose. Instead, the man inhaled once, deeply, and stepped away, slowly moving the dogs fully into Will’s arms. 

He stared at Hannibal, the older man standing up straight. His heart was beating so hard he swore that his pulse was going to leap from his throat. Without thinking, he hurried to the bathroom, movements robotic, as he laid the blanket down and spread it open. The mother was, as expected, unpleased and snapped and snarled at him. Winston had padded in and sat nearby and Will could hear the nails of the other dogs scrabbling on the wood as they pushed past him into the bathroom. The group seemed to calm her down and Will quickly hurried to make up bowls of food and water for her. 

He found Hannibal in the kitchen, unpacking his basket. Outside the wind began to howl and the snow began to fall faster, piling up on the porch steps and blanketing the Bentley. 

“You looked stressed,” Hannibal observed quietly and Will blew out his breath.

“I need to take care of her, I need to bring in some more wood and food from the barn, and I need to ….well, you need to go. If you don’t leave now, you may be stuck here.”

“For the night, perhaps. Is that unpleasant? I can help with the mother.”

“You’re a doctor, not a vet.”

“True,” Hannibal admitted. “But I can still check her for injuries and parasites. However, if you would prefer, I will bring in the wood and whatever you need from the barn. You can focus on getting her settled.” 

And that is how Will found himself with four new dogs (temporary, he told himself), and a houseguest that night. The storm had returned with a viciousness, the wind snapping at the trees, the house creaking like a tempest tossed ship. Hannibal had brought over a thick clam chowder and crusty home baked bread.

Will gratefully gulped down the soup, heaping praise on Hannibal, who informed him that there was more in the basket. And then Hannibal reached into the basket and pulled out a bottle of Macallan. 

“It’s not my preferred blend,” Hannibal admitted, “but I thought you might like it.” The implication that the 12 year old whisky was better than the jack on the shelves was veiled but enough that it prickled. 

“Why did you bring me that?” he demanded, the clam chowder turning to ash in his mouth. 

“It’s a Christmas present,” Hannibal said, slightly taken aback.

“Christmas?” 

“It is less than a week away,” Hannibal replied, bemused. “I thought I’d bring it early as a way to stay warm. Do you...if you don’t like it, Will…” For a moment the doctor appeared flustered, uncertain, and Will bit his lip. 

“No, no it’ fine,” he said hastily, nearly knocking over his chair as he stood up hurriedly. “I’ll get us some glasses.” 

And that’s how he and Hannibal found themselves in front of the fire sitting together, a blanket draped around their shoulders, sipping whisky. Hannibal had given the mother of the puppies some sausage he had brought over for Will’s dogs, Will complaining that they were being spoiled. The mother was resting now, the puppies noisly suckling. Will set up the baby gate to the bathroom door and Winston stood guard, even as the other dogs pressed against it. 

“When she feels better, I’ll bathe her and work on getting out the knots,” Will said as he took a sip of the smooth peaty drink. 

“She seems to be resting now,” Hannibal commented, his thigh flush with Will’s. 

“She still doesn’t feel safe yet but she will tomorrow. Keep the food coming.”

“I have plenty of sausage, Will,” Hannibal murmured and Will’s spine straightened. He sneaked a peek at Hannibal who stared into the fire before winking at Will. Will spluttered, laughter racking his frame. He nearly spilt out his drink as he laughed but Hannibal deftly rescued it. 

“I’m sorry,” Will gasped. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

“I have an excellent sense of humor. It is you who just doesn’t see it,” Hannibal replied gravely and Will chuckled. 

“Thank you for that. And for the whisky.” Was it his imagination or did Hannibal slide closer to him? Heat suffused his system and he discovered that he liked that firm thigh pressed so close to his, the doctor’s torso almost aligned with his.

“My pleasure,” Hannibal rumbled. 

“I didn’t get you anything,” Will confessed and Hannibal turned toward him, cocking a brow. 

“But you did, Will. This right here is more than I could have dreamed of.”

Will stared at Hannibal. 

“You are bold,” he challenged. 

“Only when I see what I want.” 

Will blinked, head tilting as he parsed the doctor’s words. Hannibal gave no sign of Will’s scrutiny, merely taking a sip of whisky. Will licked his lips. Maybe he was searching for stability. 

“In times like these, Will, we are searching for a place that we can call our home. A place where we feel safe and comforted and welcomed. Much like your strays here, you are a beacon of warmth and acceptance.” 

“Me?” Will could scarce believe the words. He certainly was not welcoming. In fact, he worked very hard not to be welcoming. His home was his sanctity. He rarely let people in it and actively discouraged them not to come to his home. Hannibal, like Alana, were the rare exceptions. 

“You are selective, but I feel like this is a place where I feel welcomed,” Hannibal agreed and Will found himself speechless. He had no recourse, no response. It was not what he was expecting and he didn’t know what Hannibal was expecting. 

But thinking back through the day, through the shared chores and dinner, the dogs greeting Hannibal enthusiastically, the mother resting her head on Will’s knee as her puppies fed, Will knew what he could do. 

He reached out and took Hannibal’s hand in his own, gripping it tightly. His heart thundered and sweat collected at the small of his back. Hannibal, after one agonizing moment, squeezed Will’s hand and laid his head on Will’s shoulder. 

And they remained there for several hours, sipping whisky, logs snapping merrily, dozing against each other as the storm settled a white mantle around their world.


End file.
